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A Gigantic Ego Trip For Dennis Hopper?

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THE actors were sitting on a rock, high in the Andes in Central Peru, strumming guitars, singing softly. It was Eden and the only other sounds were those of the birds. Den nis Hopper was also perched on this giant rock like some great bald eagle, watching and waiting. He was directing a scene from his new film, “The Last Movie.”

“The Last Movie” seems to be all about Dennis Hopper. His life, his loves and his fantasies. You can't write about “The Last Movie” with out writing about Dennis Hopper. It's completely his. He is the actor, director and writer. He makes the de cisions and takes the respon sibility. He is a man looking for himself. This is the story of his life. It's a gigantic ego trip. This is no “Easy Rider,” the movie he directed, acted in and rode to fame with last year, and that's exactly the he wants it.

Chinchero is one of the most beautiful places on earth. The tiny, remote vil lage sits at the top of fertile green and yellow valleys and Inca ruins. In the distance are great glaciers, snow fields and snow‐capped mountains. Luxurious vegetation thrives here. And poverty. The pov erty of the Indians who live in Chinchero. The beautiful peo ple of Peru. The Spanish con quered them in 1533 and the Americans in 1970. In the village square a Western movie set has been con structed. An American tem ple overlooking the sacred valley of the Incas and a breathtaking view of the Andes. This incredible view was one of the reasons Den nis Hopper decided to make his second film at this loca tion.

“The Last Movie” takes place in a faraway land after a company of American film makers have come, made Western and left. What we will see is the effect on primitive village and its peo ple ... in reality, what ac tually may happen to the peo ple of Chinchero after “The Last Movie” is finished and everyone has left.

Paul Lewis, the producer, tries to describe Hopper's part in the film. “Dennis is a blond, good‐looking, blue eyed American by the name of Kansas. He's a stunt man who comes with the Amer ican film company and de cides to stay to make the bread, and maybe he can also do some good. We do a hokey Western death scene with Dennis which the villagers accept as reality. When they see Dennis get up and walk away, they think it's a mir acle. Later, they try to re create this miracle—as a fes tival, a pageant. It doesn't work.”

“The character Dennis is playing is at times the United States. He thinks everybody is going to kill him, that everybody is against him, that he is alone in the world. In the end, he dies of his own paranoia. It's a reflection of United States paranoia. Frankly, the film is a put down of our own absurdity as a country. The war, the riots, our attitudes.”

“Yeah,” Hopper remarks, “will Nixon let it be shown in the States? You know, don't think anyo'ne realizes what I'm doing down here. In fact,” he giggles, “I'm not sure I do either.”

One of the things he's most unsure of is whether he wants to die in the film. The scene he's working on now was orig inally intended to conclude with his death, but he has decided to shoot it two ways, with this particular take end ing in death and fireworks. We watch a mild rehearsal, unprepared for what is to happen. Then, everything is ready, the cameras roll and the rehearsal explodes into reality. It is no longer a scene being played; it is a moment in time which is frighteningly real. With the death of Hop per the real and the unreal, the true and the false, sud denly become one. In death, the last piece of this massive jigsaw of a movie begins to fit into place. As an observer, you walk away dazed.

Hopper inspires something akin to idolatry in his actors, partly because he permits them tremendous freedom in interpreting their roles. Im provisation is definitely not frowned upon. Tomas Milian, a popular star of Italian films, puts it this way: “There's something I admire so much in the man. His brains, what he has inside of him, his per sonality, the contradictions. When I see Dennis, I see James Dean and I see Dean and I see Dennis. That is strong.”

One does get an eerie feel ing watching Hopper. He wears Dean's ring at all times and when he rubs that ring he seems to become Dean. Seeing this happen, you feel a shiver suddenly creep up your spine. Everyone pre tends not to notice and, in truth, it is never mentioned.

When asked what kind of a movie this will turn out to he, Milian says, “Only Dennis knows, only God knows, I don't know. I just do what he wants me to do. I have absolute faith in Dennis: Hollywood films have to go in his direction because he has broken a way of working. In “The Last Movie” he's go ing to break so many things, in himself ... to vomit. After he vomits, I think he'll feel better, but he has given a shot to the industry. After this movie, he will be more free in himself. I don't even think he knows it yet, but it will come....”

*

“You make a movie and strange things happen,” Hop per says. “They just have to fit together. Like my camera man, Laszlo Kovacs, had a telephoto lens focused on sun‐burst in the movie's church. There's a whole val ley in the background, cause there's no back on that church ... just the moun tains, the sacred mountains of the Incas. Laszlo focused On the sun‐burst and, not knowing what was behind it, he changed focus. Know what was behind it? These sheep. It's incredible ... the fact that those sheep were there is what's freaking me out. How was I to know that I'm going to kill sheep to day? I'm going to be sacrific ing sheep in the church, with the Inca mass and the whole thing. I didn't know that was logically going to follow and Laszlo didn't know, either. Something like that happens every day. That gets weird after a while, and you start realizing that there's a lot going on that has little to do with you....”

For the sacrifice scene, seven sheep are lying on their sides, feet tied, waiting for their throats to be cut. Sev eral hundred Indians have been engaged as extras for the day, for a little less than one American dollar apiece, plus anything they could later get of the slaughtered ani mals. The blood‐letting takes place matter‐of‐factly after a religious ceremony. An animal raises its head, blood stream ing from its throat, and looks with glazed eyes at its ex ecutioner, and then its head slowly drops. Death is just another phase of life, and to the natives as natural as roasting the butchered meat over the open pits.

Violence breathes in and out of this film. And every day it rains. The rain turns the lung‐choking dust into soft, oozing mud. The vil lagers stand unaffected by the downfall, waiting for their moment of action. Rain drips through the cracks of the movie‐set saloon. Everyone waits, hoping it will stop. The standing Indian women pass the time by spinning yarn with their individual wooden looms. The dampness pene trates the body ... one's bones, and it is cold.

The obvious question is: Why do a Hollywood movie on location in Peru? And the answer is, it's not a Holly wood movie. But then neither was “Easy Rider,” which Hop per made for next to nothing. So why spend all that money on a Peruvian setting? Ac cording to Paul Lewis, “The Last Movie” is not costing that much more than Hopper's first movie. “'Easy Rider; took six weeks to make and cost $350,000 to $400,000,” he said. “This film is shooting eight weeks with a much larger cast and we expect to bring it in for $800,000.”

What portion of the film's budget is going to the vil lagers? “We've given them everything we have,” says Lewis. “We're giving them tools and we're going to teach them how to use them. We're giving them medical aid, clothing, and the lumber from the set. But now it's a ques tion of who gets what .. everybody is hasseling in the village as to who gets what ... just as they do in the film. The priest got very greedy and sold us religious tiles that didn't actually be long to him. Since he's the leader of the village, he feels we should give him the most money. We promised to compensate the village for it but he feels we should give it to him. It's all on a small, petty basis, but then that's the film we are doing.”

“Originally, the film was to be clone in Mexico, but because Mexico WEIS politic ally prohibitive, we re‐wrote it for Peru. The government here has been no problem, but I think anyone coming down here in the future will meet with censorship—which we will have had a lot to do with. We have had tremen dous press, both pro and con. The narcotics issue almost got us thrown out of the country. Some of our rooms have been searched for dope. The actors from the States came down and felt they were immune to a bust, and yet in Peru it's an automatic 10 years. We've had secret police on the set almost every day. They just come out and ask, ‘Have you seen anyone smoking dope?’ The young people have been coming here, hanging on because of ‘Easy Rider.’ They all want to be hip. The authorities hate the hippies, the long hairs ... anything to do with dope. They are afraid of the youth. Afraid of change.”

Hopper seems to take the censorship problem quite per sonally. “Censorship was put in this country because of me,” he says. “Because of marijuana. I have no reason to be paranoiac. Like the F.B.I. looking for everybody on that plane to bust them. That plane brought the ac tors who were to work mostly in cameo roles—during the first two weeks of shooting. They included Peter Fonda, Dean Stockwell, Russ Tam blyn, Sylvia Miles, Jim Mitchum, John Phillip Law, Michael Anderson Jr., Severn Darden, and an assortment of hippie‐types.] My pot was stolen. They didn't even leave me a joint, man. And the police were there and were supposed to be paid off. Why should I be paranoiac? Horst, our hotel manager tells me there's going to be a big bust and everybody's room is go ing to be searched.”

“People here wouldn't even look at us at first. They would turn away because they were that slaved, man. They were really fouled up and they're so beautiful, man. They wouldn't dare laugh in front of you. They wouldn't look you in the eye. They thought we were going to destroy their village. They thought we were stealing Inca stones and looking for gold, but we got all that straightened, man, and now the people are be ginning to groove, man. But the priest ... he sold us the people's tiles. We had this pageant that was going to go on and he was going to carry statues out of the church. He said, Before you carry anything out of this church, we need $2,000, O.K.? We finally got him down to $500, which is still a hold up. We would have given something to the church, but I mean, man, you don't have to take it out that way.

“There was no equipment here,” Hopper continues. “We had to bring everything in. It's costing us $7,000 a day. We could have made the movie for one third the price it is costing us in Peru. And like the only way I can get this picture taken away from me is if we go over budget ... like that's the only way they can take this picture away from me. We're very close. Ten thousand will wipe us out.

In spite of the vicissitudes, Hopper says he has fallen in love with the land and wants to live here ?? months out of the year paradise,” he sighs.

For some Pervutans, it may be more like Paradise Lost. According to Joseph Spiel berg, an American studying and teaching anthropology under a Fulbright at the Uni versity at Cuzco, there have been daily radio editorials attacking the film company. The most common complaint concerns the lack of respect shown for local customs and the insensibility of the com pany toward the problem of the people. Protests have been made that natural settings have been used without pay ment. The villagers say that the crew has interfered with the performance of rituals. They feel that once again Peruvians are being exploited this time by a wild group of perverts. Manson‐look alikes with beards and long hair.

When asked what changes he thought would occur after the company finished their movie and left, Spielberg said of the Peruvians: “These peo ple have absorbed a helluva lot and they are not about to be shook up by a movie com pany. They won't be affected. They will tear the set down and use the wood to build school or a church. I don't even think you will know they were there in two or three months.”

Perhaps. But it would be interesting to go back to Chinchero a year from now and see.

A version of this archives appears in print on May 10, 1970, on Page 99 of the New York edition with the headline: A Gigantic Ego Trip For Dennis Hopper?. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe